


Third Times the Charm

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:46:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, she's had Napoleon and she's had Illya, but together?  Warning - very explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third Times the Charm

Okay, when you’re a kid growing up, your parents give you all sorts of advice.  Most of it is common sense stuff, don’t run with scissors, look both ways before crossing the street, you know what I mean.  Then you get a little older and they sort of get weird; this usually happens right after they have ‘the talk’ with you.  Suddenly they think you’ll turn into a crazed sex maniac or something.    In some cases, they are right to worry, like with me, but that’s another story.

Anyhow, they start giving you all sorts of other advice.  When to say no, nice girls don’t, etc. Not so helpful, especially after you find out how much fun saying yes is.  

What I would really love is for parents to give you good solid usable advice, like:  when you’re about to have hot sex with two hotter guys, make sure you’ve taken your vitamins and gotten plenty of rest the night before, but they never tell you that sort of crap… stuff you could really use…

 

We were coming back from my folk’s place out in the wilds of Suburbia.  Illya was driving, as usual.  I’m not exactly sure why he always drives, but if there’s a choice, he’s behind the wheel in a heartbeat.  It didn’t matter; I was happily sandwiched between them in the front seat, resting my head on Napoleon’s shoulder and doing some casual necking with him.   My left hand, on the other hand, was on Illya’s thigh… well, upper thigh… well, extremely upper thigh…  sort of.    

It was very weird to be with two guys at once and have both of them be okay with it.  Out of the corner of my eye I’d watched my folks try to figure out the particulars of our relationship.  Was I with Illya?  Napoleon?  I don’t think ‘both’ occurred to my parents, but they are pretty with it for parents, so who knows?  

When I’d met him, I’d immediately pegged Napoleon as a player.  The way he watched women move, caressed them with his eyes; I knew he’d not say no to a lady in need.  And I was right.  However, I also watched the little macho games he played, one upping his partner, or trying to.  If Illya wanted a woman, truly wanted her, Napoleon would put up a front, but acquiesce to him, just as Illya would give Napoleon a run for his money and then always step aside at the last moment.  Yes, Napoleon, I understood immediately.  Illya, he took a little more time.

He seemed a bit reserved when Napoleon had introduced us, but I soon came to realize it was just the way of his people.  Soviets are cautious as a rule – hell, with their history, who wouldn’t be?  Yet, once he deemed you a friend, that’s it for life.  Unless you give him a reason to distrust you, nothing will sway his friendship.  This is why I approached him very carefully.  He knew I was sleeping with Napoleon; I wouldn’t say dating because that would infer the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing, which I avoided like the plague.  I know this might be shocking, but for me it was all about the sex.

It happened when Napoleon was recovering from one of his souvenirs from an affair.  I had stopped by his place to drop off some groceries and see how he was faring.  Illya was there and over the course of the night, we got to know each other a whole lot better.  I would have suspected that Napoleon had arranged the whole thing, but no one with half a brain would purposefully get shot.  No, but he still wasn’t up for any bedroom games and I suspected that he somehow, some way, talked Illya into going to bed with me.  

Perhaps it was because he had that level of trust in Illya, or because he was afraid he’d lose me if we didn’t have sex at least twice a week  and wanted me to be with Illya, or maybe the thought of me having sex with his partner while he watched was a massive turn on, I don’t know…  

The fact that Illya was willing to go along with it at all was a surprise to me, but certainly not the first one I received that night.  Let’s just say my blond badass had a whole suitcase full of surprises and I got to experience each and every one of them during the next twelve hours.  I didn’t walk straight for a week.

After that, things got very interesting.  I went out with whichever of the two I felt the need for and they were completely fine with that.  One night Napoleon, the next… well, a couple of nights afterwards (I am human, after all), I’d hook up with Illya.

Then came that magic night, when I got both of them in bed.  Illya was just out of the hospital and still recovering.  He’d holed up at Napoleon’s place, that part I knew.  That he’d be in Napoleon’s bed, well, that took a bit of getting used to. 

 Don’t get me wrong; I’m as open minded as the next girl.  I just didn’t think they were that way.  Come to find out, they weren’t at that point.  It’s some crazy partner that I’m still not sure I understand - this need they have, a connection with each other, especially if one of them is injured in some way.  Or maybe it’s just a Napoleon/Illya thing; I’ve never been quite sure about it.  I just knew six hands were much more fun than two.  Illya still wasn’t completely well, thank God, or I’d never have survived the night.  But it did get me to thinking…

 

Anyhow, back to the here and now, we were zipping along the freeway and I abandoned Napoleon’s very tasty ear lobe to lean closer to Illya.  I’d love to give him a blow job right now, but at the speed he’s driving, that probably would result in a life altering moment.  Instead, I whispered in his ear to take the next exit.

He frowned at me, a question in his eyes, but he did as I requested… at least this time.  He slowed and pulled off the freeway, coming to a stop at the foot of the exit.   Then he looked at me expectantly.  I had to think for a minute; I’d memorized the directions that afternoon, but my head was a little fuzzy, thanks to Napoleon’s hand sliding up my thigh.  I twisted away and it was his turn to look at me with a question in those gorgeous brown eyes of his.

“Patience, my love, trust me,” I said, in a normal voice, since I no longer had to shout over the wind.  “Take a right, Illya.”

The hotel was right where it was supposed to be.  It was very quiet, tucked away off the freeway and well hidden by trees.  It was exclusive, catering to a very select clientele, and it was really, really expensive.  Mom and Dad would have a cow if they knew what I was spending my portion of Grandpop’s legacy on.  I had figured, the guys were both healthy, rested, and here, with time off to spare - when was that likely to happen again?

“Just sit tight, I’ll be right back.”  I patted both of them on their most excellently muscled thighs as Napoleon moved to let me out.

“Napoleon, do you have the faintest idea what’s going on?” Illya glanced up at the hotel’s sign and then back at his partner.  I loved the perplexed look in those lovely blue eyes.

“None whatsoever.”  I could hear them still talking as I climb out the passenger side.

A minute later, I was back, a little flushed and with a set of keys.  Napoleon had retaken his seat and I didn’t even bother to climb back over him; instead I just planted myself in his lap and pointed.  “Around the corner please.”

Illya smiled and touched his temple in a mock salute as he started up the car.

“Did you just check us in here?”  Napoleon murmured into my ear, nuzzling my hair.

“Yup.”

“And the manager didn’t find it odd that you were checking in with two men?”

“Not with his client base.”  I reached to touch Illya’s arm.  “We’re looking for Room thirty four.”

“I shudder to ask what this is all about.”  But again he did as I requested and pulled up in front of the room’s assigned parking space.  It was later in the evening and only a few of the rooms had cars in front of them.  I almost giggled at how many of them were missing license plates.

I got out and went around to the trunk.  It hadn’t been really hard to pick up the few items I thought we might need.  They both had stuff at my place and I’d packed it along with mine.  Napoleon hefted the suitcase out of the trunk as I walked up and opened the door.

I wasn’t really sure what I was expecting.  Heavy red velvet drapes, weird lighting, maybe, tacky, or worse, smelly décor, I don’t know.  I was delighted that the room looked pretty much the same as a regular hotel room did… with the exception of the oversized bath tub that nearly filled one side of the room and very comfy looking king size bed.

I glanced back over my shoulder at them and fluttered my eyelashes.  “You boys do have your wills made out, right?” And bounced inside.

Napoleon was right behind me, no surprise there.  He’d caught on the minute he’d seen the hotel sign, but Illya was just naturally more cautious.

“What is this place?”  He entered the room as if it might explode if he stepped wrong.

“Quiet, private, and ours for the night.”  I was busy checking out the bathroom and other amenities, grinning at the fact that along with the usual complimentary shampoo and hand cream, there were also condoms and a discreetly sized tube of K-Y jelly in the little basket.  The Jelly I palmed, but we weren’t going to be needing any stinkin’ condoms.

I came back out.  Illya was still standing in the middle of the room, a sort of ‘deer in the headlights’ stunned look on his face.  He truly didn’t know exactly what to think, so I went to him first, kissing him and teasing his lips until his mouth opened to mine.  He’s not as gifted a kisser as Napoleon - that man still reigns supreme in my book - but what he lacks in finesse, Illya makes up for in enthusiasm.

He sucked in my tongue and for a long moment we just stood there, hands holding each other close, mouths working as we tasted each other. That’s when I realized Napoleon had joined us.  I reached out to draw him in and left Illya for him, kissing him just as eagerly as I had his blond partner.  Kissing Napoleon is like eating a fine chocolate, sensual, totally satisfying and always leaving you wanting more.  I could kiss him forever, but I didn’t want Illya’s lips to get cold either. 

 After a moment, I pulled away to swap partners, but Napoleon beat me to it. I watched, mesmerized, as the guys kissed, their tongues meeting just a second before their lips did. It was really, really erotic, sending little shock waves deep inside me and obviously not a first for either of them.  I couldn’t just observe; I plunged back in and they welcomed me.

Illya started moving down my neck and I tilted my head to one side to give him more access as I felt his fingers undoing my blouse.  Napoleon was slower, still happily content to linger on my lips and tongue.  The man has the most dexterous tongue.  I think he could probably pick a lock with it if he had to and I grinned at the thought, then sighed as Illya’s mouth found its way to my breast.  

Illya, I knew, could pick a lock with his tongue.  One weekend, when I was introducing my blond badass to the glories of whipped cream, I watched him eat a cherry… maraschino cherry, that is, stem and all.  I was about to point out to him that the stems, while yummy to suck on, weren’t edible when he handed the stem back to me, a neat knot in the center of it.  “Show me,” I had demanded and he did… there really should be a limit to the number of climaxes you give your bed partner because he way exceeded that limit.

Still, as nice as this was, I did have an agenda and the bathtub very much figured into it.  “Napoleon?”

 _“Oui, mon chere?”_   

“The bathtub.” I had to stop there and luxuriate as Illya moved from one nipple to the other.

“What about it?”

“Fill it?”  He nodded, leaving me to Illya’s tender ministrations.  And Illya, always one to take advantage of any situation, scooped me up and carried me to the bed.  I always forget how strong these guys are, for they are always so gentle with me.  He flopped me back on the bed and skimmed his hands up my thighs to the garter belt I was wearing. 

He heaved a little sigh when he saw it and began to kiss his way up my leg, running his tongue over my skin, his breath drying the wetness he left behind.  

After what seemed a lifetime, he reached my clit.  I was about to explode by then and he knew it.  He rested his head on my thigh, stroking my belly softly, urging me back from the brink where I was poised.  

The side of the bed sank and I knew Napoleon had joined us.  He stretched out along side me, happy to concentrate on my neck, his mouth following the path Illya had blazed just minutes before, his hand working my breast.

These two understand working in tandem.  I was happily distracted by Napoleon when Illya’s tongue started tying knots in my clit.  I grabbed two handfuls of blond hair and held on for dear life as he slid a finger and then two into me.  The man has huge hands, a fact that I am very appreciative of at a time like this.  And all the while, Napoleon was tending to my other… needs.

Oh, that trip to Happy Town was incredible – the first climax always is.  I screamed into Napoleon’s mouth while Illya happily sucked and probed away.   Jelly, I felt like jelly, and they both sensed this and backed off.  Illya moved from between my legs and plopped down on the other side of me, his erection tenting his pants in a way that could not have been comfortable.  Napoleon’s I couldn’t see, but I could feel it, throbbing against my leg.  I reached over and carefully undid Illya’s belt and fly, releasing the monster, as it were.  His erection sprang forth and I couldn’t help but grin.

Again, these two were opposites.  It sort of reminded me of an art lecture I had attended once. The Professor was explaining the difference between Baroque and Rococo.  He said Baroque was like a German Shepherd and Rococo was like a French Poodle.  The first was all business like, bulky and without flourish, while the second was more cultured, more delicate.  The same held true with Napoleon’s and Illya’s dicks.  Napoleon’s was longer, slender and good for getting into that magic G spot, while Illya’s was thicker, perfect for completely filling you up to the brim with wonderful hardness.  One was good, but to have both, well, I was indeed one very lucky lady.

I reached down and took the objects of my very appreciative affection in hand.  Napoleon sighed and smiled, Illya plopped back and groaned.  At first, it had taken me by surprise how vocal Illya was during sex.  He was the quieter of the pair, often letting Napoleon take the lead and speaking only when it became necessary.  In bed, he was the opposite.  Napoleon very seldom made any noise at all in bed, except for sighs while Illya let me know every step of the way how he was feeling.  Nice for me, little hard on my neighbors…

I suddenly remembered the filling tub and managed to get my head up off the bed.  “I think our bath is ready.”  I sat up and padded over to it, shedding clothes as I went.

Illya groaned, but Napoleon punched him lightly in the arm.  “Come on, old son, good things come to those who wait.”  He sat up and offered Illya a hand, but Illya waved him on and continued to lie there.  

“Something wrong with Illya?” I asked as Napoleon stripped and eased himself into the water.

“Pacing himself, I suspect,” Napoleon said softly, then added, “Nothing that a good blow job wouldn’t fix.  Of course, he isn’t likely to get one over there when we’re over here,” Napoleon finished slightly louder than he had to.

Illya’s head came up and he scowled.  “Bastard,” he muttered, but he still didn’t move.  I had a feeling he’d be along when he was ready.  Until then, I had a hundred percent red blooded American male to deal with.  

I ducked beneath the surface of the water and came back up, all wet and slick from the oil Napoleon had generously poured into the tub.  I found my way to him and slid onto his lap, letting his dick slip between my lips but not inside me. I rubbed against him, letting the hardness of his dick massage my clit in the most delightful fashion.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore and I let him fill me.  There is this beautiful smile Napoleon gets when this happens.  This isn’t often.  I can count the times I actually initiate sex with him on the fingers of one hand.  Napoleon is very much the aggressor in bed.  He prefers to be on top and in control and that’s fine… sometimes.  Illya, again, the opposite, he doesn’t much care whose driving as long as we get there.  He’s fine with me making the first move or he will.  The boy is all about the arrival as opposed to the journey itself.

Even now, it’s Napoleon manipulating the action, his hands on my waist as he pumped me up and down.  I’m just along for the ride.  He made me come twice before he finally arrived at the same station.   

What amazed me was that, through all of this, Illya was still sprawled on the bed.  I guess he was giving us as much privacy as he could, considering our surroundings.  That wasn’t going to do at all.

I grabbed Napoleon’s hand and pulled him from the bath.  He followed my stare and grinned, picking up on my course of action.  We dried off hurriedly and I walked back over to the bed.   That was when I realized Illya had actually fallen asleep.  Well, we couldn’t have that.

Now I learned the hard way you don’t surprise agents ever, no matter the circumstances, so I was amazed that Napoleon just settled down onto the bed beside him and Illya reacted no more than as if a bit of dust had tickled his nose.

“Sit up for me, partner,” Napoleon murmured into Illya’s ear and I watched as Illya, still more asleep than awake, groggily sat up.  Napoleon slid behind him, his back propped up against the head board of the bed, and he threaded his arms around Illya’s, pulling him back against him.

“What?” Illya tried, blinking as Napoleon hooked his legs around Illya’s and spread them wide.  I happily plopped down between their legs and started amusing myself.

“Just relax and enjoy the ride,” Napoleon murmured as I sucked Illya’s penis into my mouth.  I could feel him hardening as I worked my own magic on him.  Illya arched against Napoleon, his head back on Napoleon’s shoulder, moaning.  

I glanced up and saw that Napoleon was giving Illya’s neck a work out.  I could see Illya’s hands clenching and unclenching as both of us applied even more suction.

He came with an explosive force that nearly took me by surprise.  I knew it had been awhile since we’d been together, but I always thought he took care of things in between.  Apparently not, considering his reaction...

I eased off and rested my head on his thigh, much as he had mine earlier, and watched Napoleon bring him down from his climax, whispering to him, petting him.  It was beautiful to watch them like this, so vulnerable and trusting with each other.

“You were right,” Illya said, swallowing down a panting breath and letting his head loll to study Napoleon’s profile.  “Good things do come to those who wait.”

“And I think that maybe you are still seriously over dressed.”  I got Illya’s pants off while he pulled his polo shirt over his head.

“Better?” he asked, still leaning back against Napoleon.

“From where I’m sitting, perfect,” Napoleon murmured into his ear and Illya smiled.

“So I feel.”  Then Illya surged up, knocking me backwards and stretching me out on the sheets, covering me with his body.  I could already feel his penis stabbing me in the stomach.  The man has a recovery time of zip when he puts his mind to it.  This is not necessarily a bad thing.  I so love feeling the burr of his whiskers as he moved his face against my skin, leaving little red spots behind as he kisses and nips at me.

I let my hands wander and caught a nipple, squeezing it, and Illya let me know he heartily approved.  I give him a gentle push back, letting him know that I want to drive and he acquiesces, falling onto his back and I straddle him just as I did Napoleon.

 I teased Illya for a bit, loving the way his breath caught each time I ran my finger over the tip of his dick and then I couldn’t wait anymore.  I positioned myself and slid home, sighing at the sensation as I came to rest against his body.  

Oh yes ,this is just how it’s supposed to feel and Illya pulled me down to rest on top of him, content to just be still until I was ready to move.  This is a game we’ve played many times before and we know it well.  Until I’m totally relaxed, he won’t thrust.

I could feel his hands running over my back, tickling the skin with the merest brushes of his fingertips and then they slid down to caress my ass, pulling me even closer, gaining just the smallest fraction of an inch more; I squeezed with my vaginal muscles and he grunted in appreciation.

That’s when I noticed something a little different.  His hands had stopped, and he was just holding me, my ass cheeks spread wide, and that’s when I felt fingers stroking me, soft and slick, and something else… a mouth.  Oh my God… that was enough to make me climax right then and there and I listened to Illya groan as I pulsated around him.  And all the while Napoleon kept… doing what he was doing.

Then I felt something else, something much larger than Napoleon’s finger and not as… oh, the pain when he pushed inside was blistering, white hot and explosive.  I gasped, but there was no place for me to go.  Illya was holding me firmly in place with me impaled upon him and I started to struggle.

“Shhh,” I heard Illya whisper in my ear.  “Relax, Ruth, just relax.” That was easy for him to say; he didn’t have something akin to a five pound summer sausage stuffed up his ass.  Yet the more he talked, the more I calmed down and realized that I trusted these two more than anyone and I knew that if I said stop, Napoleon would without question.  That knowledge alone made me realize just who was in charge here.  A good thing, considering my position.

“Better?” Napoleon murmured, still holding rock still. “Or do I need to stop?”

 I didn’t know how he managed to have that kind of control, but that was Napoleon.  I shook my head and he moved a little bit more.  I found a convenient spot on Illya’s shoulder and bit hard as Napoleon inched in.  And all the while, Illya talked to me, whispering things, some downright pornographic things, and I abruptly realized he wasn’t just saying random things, but that he’d been in my position before.  That was enough for another express trip to Happy Town.  I’d already climaxed twice with this go round and these guys hadn’t even started the main event.  I could tell this was going to be the ride of a lifetime.

By the time I came back from that little day trip, Napoleon was completely sheathed in me and all three of us were just sort of taking it all in, literally.  Illya was pinned to the bed by my weight and Napoleon knelt between our legs, his hands on my hips.   It was an incredible sensation, to be so fully ‘involved’ with them.

Napoleon moved then and both Illya and I gasped simultaneously.  That’s when I realized it wasn’t just me getting fucked here.  Illya was feeling everything I was and it was my turn to start whispering little naughty encouragements to him.

Shit, that’s all I’m going to say about it.  If I never come again like that, I will always have this memory to look back on.  Hearing Napoleon groaning, a first, feeling Illya shaking like a leaf beneath me, not a first but still appreciated, and me babbling the most blasphemous things I could think of as they both came at once.  I felt a tidal wave wash over me comparable to the wave that must have taken down Atlantis.

It was too much for me to even think about moving afterwards as I felt Napoleon slide out of me, leaving a trail of semen, and I was hoping nothing else, behind.  Illya was still just trying to catch his breath.  I could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage as I rested my head on him, blowing little puffs of air though the hair on his chest.  I could feel the fruits of his labor trickling out of me and slicking our abdomens.

“Off,” Illya groaned finally, flexing his hips just a bit and Napoleon complied, pushing himself off the bed and heading for the rest room.    I wasn’t quite as inclined, but Illya rolled over and I had no choice but to flop off him.

“Wow, that was… something else.”  I was still all warm and fuzzy from my climax and I could see Illya’s eyes struggling to stay open.  Hmm, that was a first.  It usually took me three serious goes to get him looking that way.  

Napoleon was back with a couple of warm washcloths and a towel.   We cleaned each other up and then stretched out, pulling the sheet over us.

“That was a first for you, I think,” Napoleon murmured, his hands roaming happily over my body.  I couldn’t believe he still wanted more and, at the moment, I just wasn’t up to it.

“That it was.”  I couldn’t lie to these guys, even if I wanted to, which I didn’t.  “It was pretty painful at first.  Not what I was expecting.”

“Still?”

“No, not as much now.  It just feels weird… I don’t see what guys see in it though.”

“That’s because you lack a necessary item,” Illya muttered, his eyes closed.

“What’s that?”

“A prostate.” He rolled over and propped his head up on his hand.  “Believe me, it makes a world of difference.”  

“Oh.” I started to toy with the medallion he wore.  St. Christopher, I think.  “Do tell.”

He did me one better than that, I got a firsthand demonstration and if I thought watching two guys kiss was erotic, well, let’s just say, what I saw was downright jaw dropping.  I was envious, I was embarrassed, and I was sad.  Never once in all our copious love making had I heard either of them respond to me the way they did to each other that night, the way they sang out when they climaxed.

 And I knew in my heart of hearts that no matter how much I gave these two, I’d never be able to give them what they gave each other.  You see, for me, it was sex, really incredible mind-blowing sex, but for them, it was so much more than that.  No matter what I did, I’d never have their hearts.  

 

 

And that’s my story really.  We sort of drifted apart after that night.   We did see each other once in awhile after that, but it was never again as a threesome.  That one night taught me a lesson.   One step back and their world moved around me, pushing me aside as if I was a small stick trapped in an eddy of a very large river.   And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted what they had, that closeness and the love that drove them forward, always together.  I learned that you had to be a generous lover to reap the rewards and that the price, while high, was so very worth it.

The next time I went home, I took a new fella.  He was nice, he was Joe Normal and he was hung like a horse.  Hey, I wanted love, but I wasn’t willing to become a nun to get it.  When he popped the question, I said yes.  He knew a little about my past; I even introduced him to Napoleon and Illya at our wedding.    I couldn’t help but wonder how our lives would have played out if I hadn’t booked that room that night; if I’d have just left things alone to go on as they were, would I have ever made it to this point?  Would I have ever learned how to love as I did now if I hadn’t seen what I saw in those two making love that night?  That was the difference, you see.  We had sex, wonderful glorious sex, but those two, they made love and it was complete and absolute and they were totally commitment to each other.   And that was what I wanted now with Steven and, I’d like to think, he with me.

At the reception, I watched them, sitting and talking with each other, looking as if they didn’t have a care in the world simply because they were just sitting and talking with each other.  And I wished them peace, I wished them love, and I wished them a long life together.   They deserve it.

And now, if you will excuse me, it’s time that I am off with my new husband.  I’ve booked a room at a certain very discreet and very exclusive hotel.  This time though, I have a feeling the morning after will be a whole different ball of wax.

 

 


End file.
